Process of Elimination
by deangirl22
Summary: (Set during mid-season two, spoiler friendly.) Keeping a guise of normalcy is important to Hannibal Lecter. Despite a horrific event, Eliza Braden thinks herself normal. Hannibal's compelling nature may very well break Eliza's composed denial.
1. Chapter 1

Her wavy chestnut hair fell loosely around her heart-shaped face. Her hazel eyes were betwixt with flecks of green. Hannibal couldn't help thinking what a lovely specimen Eliza Braden was, her womanly form begged to be tasted. 'Perhaps someday' Hannibal thought, a polite smile sprouting on his lips as he shrugged out of his jacket. Her velvety voice carried through the air, bidding him welcome, as she extended a hand. Her smile was genuine, but Hannibal could sense the confusion seeping through her pores as his palm embraced hers. "The pleasure is all mine Ms. Braden." Hannibal declared, raising her wrist to his lips. Her scent sizzled throughout Hannibal's being, although she wore no perfume. As Eliza gestured to the ottoman, Hannibal deduced she used a sensual body wash, likely jasmine. Sitting down opposite Eliza, he regarded her wardrobe. Her black skirt clung past her knees, her navy blouse was mostly hidden behind a silver-buttoned black business jacket.

Eliza's nimble fingers combed over the silver buttons of her jacket self-consciously, as she cast a quickened glance around her office. Every book was perfectly nestled on the shelf, the wooden floor had been freshly polished that very morning and the faint aroma of lemon could still be distinguished. Her eyes revolved onto Hannibal Lecter as he sat down. Her heart was fluxing with nervous energy as she studied him. His dark eyes were flat, yielding little emotion. Eliza had seen many such as his, a clear sign of PTSD. Yet something about Hannibal's cool demeanor gnawed at her. He was dressed as an esteemed gentleman should dress, although it was rare to encounter such a man these days. His silk-brown suit was tailor-made, his tie was tan paisley atop an orange background.

Aware that Hannibal was assessing her just as much as Eliza was him, she forced a smile and reclined in her leather chair."I must admit, I am surprised you sought my counsel Dr. Lecter. As I'm sure you know, my patients are typically female...also I've rarely advised someone has survived a near-death experience." Eliza began. Euphoria

"That has not always been the case. It was through word-of-mouth that you aided several soldiers fresh from the war, half of which were male. Surely a few of them faced death on the battlefield." Hannibal remarked. In truth, Eliza's professional accomplishments were minimal, though significant for someone in her early thirties. Hannibal being counseled was a necessary nuisance, but he had decided after the failure with his previous therapist, that he would chose his next one more carefully. It was Eliza's private history that had drawn Hannibal to her, and it was in his best interests to exploit the dark secret she held.

"Yes. But even you must admit, I am a curious choice for a counselor. I would not call myself unseasoned, but I do lack the same prestige as my peers..."

"You are used to be looking down upon. You personal merit is such that you worry I will judge your professional etiquette..."

"I worry that I may not be the best choice, Dr. Lecter. It would've been impersonal, to tell you over the phone." Eliza responded, sitting forward in an effort to get her point across.

"It would be equally improper for you to refuse me as a patient." Hannibal retorted evenly.

Running a finger along her chin in an effort to gracefully scratch an itch, Eliza was silent as she stared at Hannibal in thought."...What if I were to tell you that I don't think you need to see a PTSD specialist?" she asked.

"I would be curious as to what reasoning you used to reach such a conclusion." Hannibal answered.

"How much time has passed since your encounter?"

"Four days."

"And your would-be murderer, slit your wrists and had a noose around your neck...am I wrong?" Eliza pressed.

"No, you are correct." Hannibal prompted.

Eliza's gaze dropped from Hannibal's face onto his throat. "Someone who had nearly been hung, would have terrible anxiety about ties for some time." she stated, coaxing a smile out of Hannibal. "You appear perfectly as ease."

"Those that grovel on the past, are incapable of embracing the future as they should." Hannibal said simply. "I imagine you understand this better than anyone."

"Why do you say that?"

"The incident that befell you, that which propelled you to change your doctrine..."

A smile of dread had creased Eliza's lips. "Is that why you're here? You hoped to enter my establishment as a patient, and exit as my doctor?" she asked crudely.

Hannibal answered nonchalantly. "There was a note in your file about your refusal of therapy. You felt no one would understand. Few people have tasted blood that is not their own...fewer still have had human flesh clotted in their teeth."

"What happened, happened almost five years ago." Eliza snapped.

"You are nearing an anniversary date...and on the eve of your anniversary, your rapist will be set free. A cruel joke from the correctional system." Hannibal responded, amused by the leer that Eliza had fastened onto her face.

Eliza heaved a sigh as she stood from her chair, running an absentminded hand down her skirt to waylay any wrinkles. "Yes, I am well aware. I think it's time you leave Dr. Lecter." she announced.

Hannibal gazed up at her. "Of course. But first I'd like to ask if you would join me for dinner tomorrow evening." he replied.

"Are you joking?" Eliza blurted bitterly.

"Not at all." Hannibal said simply.

"I've no interest in your help, I need no help." Eliza stated coldly.

Hannibal rose from his seat. "You have taken into consideration Ike Ryan has put out a restraining order on you...?" he replied with an implication. "An unnecessary precaution given how much bodybuilding he pursued while behind bars." he added, slipping his hand into his pocket as he strolled towards the door.

"If Ike wants revenge on the harpy that tore out his throat, what possible aid could you provide me – FBI detail?" Eliza scoffed.

"Mm. You refer to yourself as a harpy." Hannibal mused, shrugging into his jacket. "An interesting analogy."

"You didn't answer my question." Eliza said flatly, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"If it is an answer you seek, come to dinner. As I understand it, you have shared meals with your patients before. Why should I be any different?" Hannibal responded coyly.

"When I dined with my patients, it was for their betterment." Eliza stubbornly replied.

"You are a very selfless woman, Ms. Braden. Devoted to your craft, just as I am. Where we differ, I take it upon myself to indulge as I see fit – when was the last time you did something for your own benefit?" Hannibal said smoothly.

Hannibal left then, as quietly and composed as when he had first laid eyes on Eliza.

Eliza who had been a jotted bundle of nerves when Hannibal arrived, was consumed by a raw sense of euphoria and intrigue.


	2. Chapter 2

Eliza's teal PT Cruiser eased across the threshold of Hannibal's estate. On the doorstep, stood Hannibal himself, dressed in a form-fitting black t-shirt and tan slacks, his hands clasped behind his back and a welcoming smile embroidered on his lips. As Eliza stepped out of her car, Hannibal noted with great interest that she had dressed considerably less modest. Her dark dress slacks hugged her delicate legs and protruding rear, the collar of her tan shirt bulged downward into a V. There was also a subtle necklace of overlapping amber coiled around her amble neck. The inclusion of jewelry, eliminated the make-up Eliza had worn when Hannibal first met her. Hannibal deduced that Eliza never wished to appear too beautiful, an understandable tactic for a rape victim.

As she drew near, the smile that sprang to Eliza's lips was well practiced, though she hoped Hannibal did not notice. Since their meeting, Eliza had been able to think of little else but the mysterious Hannibal. "Your estate is lovely Dr. Lecter." she greeted, extending a polite hand.

"Please Ms. Braden, if we are to dine together, I believe we should establish a first name basis, don't you?" Hannibal replied, his fingers enclosing Eliza's palm as he once again kissed the top of her wrist. A whiff of rose pedals basked his nostrils, confirming his notion that Eliza was attracted to him. Though Hannibal knew it was likely Eliza had not been properly intimate with another man since the incident occurred, he still felt a qualm of pride swell inside him.

"I suppose...Hannibal." Eliza agreed, with a grin that bordered on bashful.

"After you Eliza." Hannibal encouraged, gesturing for her to enter his home.

Hannibal's estate possessed an allure Eliza was hopeless to describe. The inside was just as gorgeous and immaculate as the exterior, soft colors meshed perfectly with darker hues. Hannibal guided Eliza to his kitchen, mentioning that the meal, spaghetti with garlic bread, was not quite finished. What Eliza found incredible, was the makings of the kitchen suggested Hannibal was a chef, yet he had prepared a meal with little to no preparation required. Eliza almost felt cheated, which was precisely how Hannibal wanted her to feel.

Rolling up his sleeves, Hannibal cupped his fingers around a wooden spoon to stir the noodles. Hannibal's sense of timing was impeccable as always, but he did not wish to hurry the evening. Upon closer observation, Hannibal had glimpsed a thick scar hidden beneath the collar of her v-neck tee. It jutted from her clavicle down toward her cleavage, a parting gift from her rapist Ike Ryan.

Eliza's gaze traveled from Hannibal's neckline, which still appeared raw from rope-burn, down to his stitched wrists. Although every person dealt with trauma in different ways, Eliza knew people who suffered PTSD took time to recuperate. Inviting a stranger to dinner was peculiar behavior, there was something off about Hannibal Lecter, that much Eliza was certain of.

Eliza's heavy stare, inspired a smile from Hannibal. "You seem displeased at my selection for tonight's meal. I hope you understand if I did not want to give the wrong impression." he stated.

Eliza rested her weight on the counter nearest the oven. "Of course, you needn't explain..."

Hannibal glanced at her, his smile upturning into a smirk. "On the contrary..." he argued. "Might I ask what theories you have devised as to the true nature of our interaction?"

"...None I wish to share." Eliza replied, her gaze shifting from his eyes to his wrist. "Is it bothersome, cooking while your wrists are healing?" she questioned.

"Passion is often sought for a lifetime. Those fortunate enough to find theirs, hold on dearly...it is a precious commodity of the soul. To let tender wrists negate my passion, would be a tire disservice, not only to myself but to you as well Eliza." Hannibal remarked, turning the knob of the stove.

The way her name rolled off his tongue, ignited a spark within Eliza, one she hoped would subdue the longer she was in Hannibal's presence. "Do you think they'll scar?" she asked, nodding at his wrists as he churned the pasta sauce.

Noticing the up-tilt of her voice, Hannibal replied. "It is a possibility. I am not sure I would mind if they did. Scars are relevant to a past better left unforgotten. Perhaps you feel differently." Without thinking, Eliza's fingertips perched on her scarred clavicle as Hannibal took a step toward her, closing the gap between them. "May I?" he gently inquired, his hand hovering in mid-air. Eliza didn't wish to be touched, yet she wrangled her chestnut hair behind her ear to allow him access. Hannibal carefully shifted the collar of her shirt aside, his thumb intentionally brushing against her skin as he studied her scar. By seeing the scar in such close proximity, Hannibal could envision the event in greater details than when he had read her file. How Eliza had struggled against the blade Ike Ryan had threatened her profusely with, how he had thrust himself inside Eliza who had grown paralyzed in fear. How that paralysis had ultimately thawed, when the evolutionary trigger of 'fight or flight' had activated. Eliza Braden had partook both.

As if reading Hannibal's mind, Eliza's hand snapped around Hannibal's wrist. Her nails nipped at his stitches but she didn't release, even as her hazel eyes becoming ensnared in his dark brown ones. "It is a wretched thing.." she mumbled.

"It is part of you." Hannibal said. Their prolonged contact greatly encouraged Hannibal, even as Eliza dejectedly removed her hand from his wrist. "If you fear it hinders your beauty, you need not. Your scar is a mark of valor.." he told her with the shadow of a smile.

"There was nothing honorable about what transpired Hannibal." Eliza spat.

"You prevented a man from murdering you. Is that not admirable?" Hannibal challenged, as he strained the water from the noodles. The steam ebbed upward past Hannibal's chin, emphasizing his hollowed cheekbones. Realizing she was staring at him once again, Eliza scowled and put distance between Hannibal and herself. Internally Hannibal chuckled. However, Hannibal contorted his features to look properly sober. "I apologize if my remark upset you. Dinner is almost complete, allow me to show you to the dinning room..."

Eliza dutifully followed, deciding she would wait awhile longer before demanding to know what Hannibal was up to. His dining table was vast consisting of dark, polished wood that literally gleamed. Hannibal withdrew a chair for her, and Eliza sat down with a small smile. As he departed, Hannibal gingerly touched her arm causing Eliza's heart to flutter.

Upon entering the kitchen, Hannibal wasted no time. Opening the refrigerator, Hannibal grasped the container of his specially crafted meatballs and set it on the counter. Plucking plates from the cabinet, he daintily unfurled the noodles, engulfed them in sauce and placed the garlic bread alongside. Finally he strategically planted the meatballs and grabbed fabric napkins from a drawer. When he returned to the dining room, Hannibal saw Eliza was nervously fiddling with her silverware.

"Do you prefer white or red wine?" Hannibal inquired as he presented the meal.

"Red." Eliza smiled.

"My personal favorite." Hannibal informed, retreating to the kitchen once again.

Eliza took a deep breath while she could, fearful that once the wine graced the table, she would be tempted to down the entire glass out of sheer nerves. She had no inkling as to why Hannibal had invited her to dinner, and she was beginning to fear, that she no longer cared. Eliza had always been selective socializing with the opposite sex, more-so after Ike Ryan had violated her. Yet here she sat, in Hannibal Lecter's estate, for an unknown reason, feeling oddly content.

Hannibal returned with the wine and they ate in silence for some time. Eliza complimented Hannibal's cooking, specifically the pasta sauce and a secret smile embezzled Hannibal's mouth. Unknown to her, Hannibal had added a dash of O negative - the same blood type as Ike Ryan.

"Do you wish to treat me Dr. Lecter?" Eliza finally asked.

A pang of disappointment resigned with Hannibal that she had reverted to using his surname, but played along. "I believe a professional relationship – that of treatment - would be mutually beneficial Ms. Braden. You do not spend much time putting yourself into consideration. A reclusive way of living is an unhealthy way of being."

"You mentioned mutuality, but you've never spoken as to how I'm to aid you." Eliza pointed out, twirling her fork thoughtfully.

"I require a therapist capable of comradeship, one who would not be opposed to such affection being returned." Hannibal explained with a coy smile. "If it pleases you, I will keep no record of you as a patient."

"...Do you expect me to do the same?" Eliza asked.

"No. I feel no shame in seeking council." Hannibal answered. Eliza's face, usually an open book, had sealed itself behind a cover of indifference. For the first time since making her acquaintance, Hannibal could not read her. "What are you thinking?" he pressed.

"I am unsure what to think...but I can say with certainty that you are a man with an agenda...though I cannot fathom what. I imagine that's best."

"Perhaps someday we may fully confide in each other."

The meals were partially devoured, the wine glasses half empty and an uncanny cloud of tension emitted above them. Eliza's guard had been re-enforced, a wondrous blockade that Hannibal deemed would be easily destroyed with the right amount of sexual innuendo subconsciously applied.

"How many sessions do you foresee us having?" Eliza questioned.

Hannibal smiled. "That is entirely up to you...how do you normally schedule your patients?"

"Depends on the urgency of treatment. Usually every two weeks, but in special circumstances, I have counseled once a week."

"Do you consider our engagement a special circumstance?"

"...Yes..." Eliza said softly.

"As do I. Excessive interaction could likely result in an expedited recovery." Hannibal replied.

"Recovery?" Eliza echoed with a raised brow.

Hannibal took a precarious sip of wine before responding. "Ignoring an infection does not prevent it from festering, it must be tendered to in order to heal. You've never been treated Eliza, therefore you have never recovered."

"What about your recovery?"

"My recovery is tethered to yours, much as a wounded solider relies on his brothers-in-arms to cart him off to safety."

Eliza stared at her plate, stricken with waves of sauce and a stranded noodle. Her hazel eyes reverted to Hannibal after a moment of contemplation. "So therapy is my weapon against Ike Ryan?" she asked, recalling what Hannibal had said during their first encounter.

"Did you have a different solution in mind?" Hannibal responded curiously. Eliza shook her head, then shrugged in a sated fashion. "Many times when a rapist is set free, the victim will invest in a gun. Ike Ryan will be freed at the end of the month, yet you have not purchased any defense against him. You are in no need of one. Make no mistake Eliza, you are not a damsel in distress."

"I didn't have you figured for a knight in shinning armor Hannibal." Eliza retorted, finishing the last of her wine. Hannibal watched with great intensity, as the liquid passed through her bow-shaped lips. Hannibal imagined the wine cascading down her throat and felt a rise within him. Generally speaking, he didn't ingest the esophagus often, but Hannibal was beginning to wonder, if he would not make an exception for Eliza, if need be. Her words drew Hannibal away from his thoughts. "I really must be going now. Thank you for dinner." Eliza was saying.

"You're most welcome Eliza. When should I expect to see you at my office?" Hannibal asked, rising from his chair the same instant that she did from hers.

Though she hated herself for doing so, Eliza smiled. "The therapists usually suggest the date, Dr. Lecter." she teased, carrying her plate and glass into the kitchen with Hannibal at her heels.

"Very well. Shall we say Thursday at four?" Hannibal prompted, as their dishware was set aside on the counter.

"Is there a particular day of the week I should pencil you in for?" Eliza asked, keeping her gaze free of Hannibal's as he escorted her to the front door.

"Whichever day you would feel most comfortable seeing me. Though keep in mind, I still am a consultant for the FBI. Cancellations may be inevitable." Hannibal replied.

"I understand. Have a good evening Hannibal."

"You as well Eliza."

It was abundantly clear to both Hannibal and Eliza that something inevitable indeed was on the horizon, though neither could name with absolute certainty what that inevitability could be.


	3. Chapter 3

There had been minimal eye-contact between Hannibal and Eliza when he had welcomed her into his office. It wasn't unusual, nor was it unexpected. Eliza had strolled in with a practiced smile, which nonetheless barely concealed her anxiety. Her wavy chestnut hair had been straightened by a flat-iron, the slate-grey dress she wore was one size too big, and the black wedges on her feet, perfectly hid her toes. Hannibal had noticed Eliza did not exhibit the smell of floral body wash, indicating she hadn't bathed in the early dawn as she typically did. In fact, Hannibal judged her hazel eyes looked unnaturally glassy, as if she hadn't slept the night before. Eliza's fingers were knotted tightly around the strap of her purse, her jittery gaze sweeping the room apprehensively.

Hannibal cupped his hand around Eliza's shoulder, startling her, though she did not shy from his touch. "Would you care for some coffee Miss Braden?" he offered.

A rattled laugh exhumed from her bow-shapped lips as Eliza shook her head. Hannibal gestured for her to sit in the appropriate chair, and Eliza complied. Sitting, Eliza observed Hannibal more closely than she had upon her arrival. The suit he wore was deep blue, too light to be considered navy. His silk tie was off-white, with a dark grey shirt underlay. A moment of silence passed during which both Eliza and Hannibal merely stared at one another, oddly at ease with the blatant examination of each other. Eliza cleared her throat, and lowered her purse onto the floor. "No notebook Dr. Lecter?" she noticed, her tone mimicking a carefree nature.

"Do you wish for me to document our sessions?" Hannibal remarked.

"...No." Eliza admitted, the singular word laced with hesitancy.

"You fear if I don't keep record of our interactions, I will not fully commit to them." Hannibal accurately guessed. The confirmative twinge along Eliza's brow inspired a soft smile from him. "Would it comfort you to know, I have a photographic memory?"

"I..suppose." Eliza murmured, although her gaze darted downward. Hannibal was intrigued at how Eliza had so thoroughly closed herself off, yet the dress she wore, openly displayed her scar. There were clearly many contradictory curves to Eliza Braden's psyche which Hannibal would have to straighten with care. Having regained her composure, Eliza straightened the helm of her dress against her pearly knees, and summoned a smile upon her heart-shaped face. "Let's begin, shall we?" Eliza baited.

"As you wish. Tell me of your childhood." Hannibal began.

"My childhood?" Eliza echoed emptily.

Hannibal nodded. "When you were six years old, your father was filed as a missing person - to this day, he has never been found..."

Eliza's mouth was ajar but no response was readily formed. A darkness had sharpened her hazel eyes, hardening them into an unreadable glower. "Perhaps we should...reassess our arrangement." she stalled.

Hannibal tilted his head ever so slightly. "I have you at a disadvantage, it bothers you." he mused. "Yet you cannot deny you are a very secretive individual Miss Braden. I deemed it necessary to use my federal connections at my disposal to..."

"To provide the best possible treatment.." Eliza interrupted, finishing his sentence for him.

"Would you not have done the same, were you in my position?" Hannibal challenged, seamlessly hiding his irritation at the interruption.

Eliza was silent, but her mouth subtly twitched before she spoke. "Your fixation on me, is a distraction from the trauma you have endured. That is why you claim your recovery, is tethered to mine."

Eliza's realization was a falsehood of course, Hannibal was in no need of emotional recovery. However, such a belief would solidify their relationship, professional and otherwise. After several seconds had passed, Hannibal slowly stood, crossed the small space between them, and sat down beside Eliza. "Do you object?" he coyly responded.

Eliza's breath had caught in her throat at their close prioxmity. "I should, but I don't." she admitted, with a wry sideways glance, the corner of her lips betraying her urge to smile.

Hannibal smiled for her, his dark eyes examining her fruitfully. Her jugular was throbbing amid her delicate neck, her heart racing in unorthodox anticipation of eventual sexual release. Eliza truly was a delicious specimen to be had. Already Hannibal could envision his knife slicing into her cheekbone, grazing the steel down past her jaw, curving it carefully so as not to sever the flesh of her throat. That porcelain throat. His gaze strayed to the scar Ike Ryan had infused into Eliza's skin during his raping. Scar tissue was inedible of course, yet as Hannibal scrutinized it, the desire to run his tongue against the ruptured skin, ravaged his mind.

"I am glad to hear it. Shall put aside such formalities, and focus on the issues at hand?" Hannibal gradually said.

"Alright Hannibal." Eliza softly replied. "May we speak only of my father today then?"

"Of course Eliza." Hannibal answered, noting her pupils widening in arousal at the sound of her name. "We needn't rush things." Hannibal purposely brushed his knee against Eliza's, as he stood and reclaimed his spot across from her. Straightening his suit jacket, Hannibal pretended to be oblivious to Eliza's lips rolling inward as a pinkness flushed her face. "Irving Braden was the name of your father, was it not?" he began. Eliza nodded, then crooked her neck, as if her budding lust would vanish with such a motion. "How was his relationship with your mother, Jennifer?"

"Violent." Eliza answered with a bitter twang to the word. "He beat her regularly."

"Did he ever beat you?" Hannibal asked.

"No. Mother would lock me and Bovver, our dog, a mixed breed..she would lock us, in my room..." Eliza paused, her hazel eyes clouding in memory. "Then...one day..." Eliza paused again, her eyes sliding upward to meet Hannibal's. "I think she'd finally had enough, she was going to leave him, take me and Bovver with her...whatever restrain my father usually had, broke. I could hear her screaming, she never screamed before...Bovver began growling, scratching at the door the hardest he'd ever done. I knew what would happen if I let him out...and I knew that my father would've killed my mother, if I didn't." Eliza took a deep breath. "..So..I opened the door...Bovver rushed out, and I ran after him. My father was standing, hunched over my mother, with a bloodied phonebook in his hands. Bovver leapt up, leapt up snarling and sank his teeth straight into my father's throat. There was so much blood, even more when he hit the ground..."

"How did you react?" Hannibal pried.

"..I..laughed." Eliza whispered. A liveliness blazed in Eliza's hazel orbitals, a liveliness Hannibal had not witnessed in the young lady before.

"You were relieved, happy." Hannibal mused, keeping his voice level despite his excitement at her change in demeanor.

"Yes. I hated my father, every day I wished something bad would happen to him...it finally did." Eliza frowned slightly, studying Hannibal cautiously. "I didn't mourn him, not for one second. Does that make me a bad person?"

A smirk threatened to engulf Hannibal's mouth, but he kept it at bay. " A bad daughter perhaps. What you are truly asking, is if such indifference marks you as vile or depraved - it does not. You did not feel grief, because you recognized your father's life, was not a worthy one. Irving himself knew this also, it is the reasoning why he continuously beat his wife, the mother of his child."

Eliza stood abruptly, clenching her arms against herself, and taking several steps away from Hannibal. "...I shouldn't have laughed, I should've been terrified..." she mumbled.

"Why?" Hannibal asked, propelling Eliza to glance over her shoulder. "The dog was defending your mother, you knew it would not bar its fangs at you."

"...A technically Hannibal...we both know..." Eliza sullenly trailed off, no longer facing him.

Hannibal stood, pocketing one hand as he strolled toward her. "That there is something wrong with you." His expressionless face studied her alarmed one. "Was that your expectation upon confessing? That I would label you as having sociopathic tendencies as a child?"

"Didn't I?" Eliza challenged, pacing in a half-circle so that she and Hannibal were once again face-to-face.

"Does it matter?" Hannibal retorted, much to her amazement. "Clearly this topic was difficult for you to discuss. Any sociopathic tendencies you may've had in your youth, you have since outgrown."

"_Outgrown_?" Eliza scoffed.

"Did you mourn the death of your dog Bovver?" Hannibal questioned.

"..Yes, but.." Eliza began.

Hannibal swiftly continued. "And when you learned of your mother's suicide, did you mourn her?"

"Yes." Eliza answered.

"Your hatred for your father was well-founded and deeply rooted. That you laughed at his death, rather than cry, shows only strength of character, not lack there of.." Hannibal concluded.

"You sound so certain." Eliza marveled.

"I am. Or don't you trust me, Eliza?" Hannibal responded. Eliza's features were frozen, although her eyes frantically searched his for something she likely couldn't find. "I believe you do trust me. When last we spoke, I told you the scar Ike Ryan gave you, was a mark of valor..that it did not detract from your beauty. Today, you've worn a dress that proudly shows it."

At the mention of her scar, Eliza instinctively hovered her palm over it, shielding her scar from Hannibal's lucid gaze. Hannibal reacted, by slowly, gingerly hooking his palm atop of hers, his fingers overlapping the gaps between her own digits, as he gently led their joined hands away from her scar. Eliza's breathing had slowed, but she didn't sever their contact.

"There is nothing you need hide from me Eliza." Hannibal told her, ushering his fingers around hers, until they niched against the underside of her palm. He brought her knuckles to his lips, inhaling her natural scent for the first time.

A knocking at the door, startled Eliza out of her revere and she retracted her hand hurriedly from his grasp, as if she had just been caught stealing cookies from a jar. "Th-thank you Hannibal." Eliza stammered, much to her own annoyance.

"I shall see you next week Eliza, for my own session. We shall be in touch.." Hannibal said, escorting Eliza to his office entrance.

* * *

A/N - It's been over a year since I first published this...sooooo if anyone is interested in reading more, I beg you to leave a review. Please?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - Trigger warning. Sexual nature. Not much of either, but enough that I might get frowned at if I didn't mention anything.

* * *

A black vest peeked beneath the folds of his black and grey checkered suit jacket, a matching tie knotted against a white shirt atop black slacks. It wasn't the most alluring attire Hannibal owned, but it didn't need to be. No, judging from the hardened stare Eliza possessed as Hannibal entered her professional abode, a line had been crossed. Eliza herself had crossed it, in the pre-dawn likely. Hannibal theorized she had been examining her hand, the hand he is so frequently kissed, perhaps it had even happened in the shower. Eliza hadn't planned on it happening, her hand had likely strayed of its own accord, and when it did, she had cried out louder than she had meant to.

Dressed in a red-orange two-piece suit, Eliza's wavy chestnut curls had again been sacrificed to the hair straightener. Judging from the minor burn Hannibal spotted on her index finger as she gestured for him to take a seat, Eliza had been still reveling in her act of self-pleasure at the time. Through her guarded expression, Hannibal glimpsed shame in her hazel eyes, but he also sensed a less heightened amount of anxiety. Eliza was about to start her first session, counseling a man who held more prestige than she likely ever would, yet she was relatively calm as she sat down across from him. Her morning endeavor had been an achievement for them both.

Eliza crossed one leg over the other, and settled her ledger against her thigh. It was a perfectly natural movement, but Hannibal suspected it was more of a statement - he was on her turf. Allowing a smile to soften the edges of his mouth, Hannibal directed his gaze onto her legs as she no doubt hoped he would, even momentarily. "How would you like to begin, Eliza?" he asked, righting his attention onto her face.

Eliza smiled, the pen she wielded clenched tensely in mid-air. "I'm glad you asked Hannibal. Take off your jacket." she answered.

Hannibal's brow perked in surprise, but only briefly. Of course, she wanted him to reveal his mementos from his near-death experience. Sitting forward, Hannibal ushered himself to the edge of his seat, shortening the gap between himself and Eliza. A quiver streaks down her throat, as Hannibal unbuttons and sheds his suit jacket. Draping it over his lap, Hannibal noticed the relaxed muscles of Eliza's calves have grown taunt. If such meager undressing was affecting her, Eliza was certainly deprived. Seamlessly, Hannibal shifted his gaze onto his cufflinks, unfastening them with slowed precision and folding his sleeves up to his elbows. Once his forearms were bare, Hannibal began undoing his tie, observing Eliza adeptly. She was holding her breath, and Hannibal felt the welcome companionship of pride ignite his insides. With concealed smugness, Hannibal slid his tie free from his collar and began rolling it up. "I admire your straightforwardness Eliza." he remarked, truly using speech as an excuse to push the brunette further into her lust. "There are many ways to approach counseling a new patient, I was curious as to which route you would take with me." It was difficult to ignore how his voice stirred Eliza, as his fingers finished urging open the buttons of his collar, parting the fabric from his neck.

"Our arrangement is hardly typical Hannibal, but it is good that I haven't disappointed you." Eliza replied, her hazel eyes honing in on the fading rope mark around his neck. "Tell me about the man who did this to you."

"Matthew Brown. He was an orderly at Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane." Hannibal said. "Matthew shot me with a dart gun while I was swimming. When I awoke, I was standing on a bucket, with a noose around my neck, my arms fastened to a plank of wood, my wrists slit diagonally. I could scarcely speak or breathe, hapless to the blood streaming from my wounds."

A dark shadow passed across Eliza's face, and she grew deaf to the rest of Hannibal's response. Mentally, she was transported back to that dark alleyway with Ike Ryan. One hand enclosed around her throat, the other banishing the knife against the niche of her neck. His wide mouth spilling out threats and profanities, his hand groping her chest, then parting her legs. A pain she had not experienced since she lost her maidenhead, agonizing from her abdomen downward. Ike's knife sliced into her clavicle with his every thrust, her blood slowly soaking her shirt.

Sudden contact startled Eliza from her revere, her hazel eyes jumping onto Hannibal's hand which had merged with the small of her right wrist. "..Is everything alright Eliza?" he asked imploringly.

"Yes, yes of course." Eliza mumbled, sitting straighter.

"It appears my retelling triggered recollections of your own trauma." Hannibal observed.

"Even if it did, this is your counseling session, not mine." Eliza reminded, lifting her wrist free of Hannibal's grasp.

Hannibal purposely lagged in his reaction to her recoil, his fingers 'accidentally' brushing her thigh before reeling back into his own personal space. He was still perched on the edge of his seat, close enough to smell Eliza's natural scent seeping through her floral body wash. "Then how would you like to continue?" he asked.

Eliza uncrossed her legs, flipping her hair behind one shoulder and straightening her ledger against her knees. "Why did this Matthew Brown, try to kill you?" she asked.

"Matthew believed he was doing Will Graham a favor." Hannibal answered.

"The favor was to kill you?" Eliza pressed.

"Yes." Hannibal said, noting Eliza appeared oddly unsurprised by his response.

"And who is Will Graham?" Eliza asked, making a note in her ledger.

Hannibal smiled demurely. "A criminal profiler, and a close friend of mine. Will is currently hospitalized at the same establishment Matthew Brown was an employee of."

"Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane...?" Eliza inquired. Hannibal nodded. "Was Will a patient of yours?"

"In many ways, he still is." Hannibal mused.

"Do you and Will have an arrangement such as you and I have?" Eliza questioned.

"To compare you and Will, would be similar to comparing moss to mold." Hannibal deduced.

A slight frown creased Eliza's lips. "A strange comparison." she blurted.

"Not at all, in fact a rather fitting one." Hannibal lightly argued. "Moss is a plant that converts dissolved soil minerals into the energy it needs to grow and reproduce. Mold is neither plant nor animal, but a fungus that converts decaying organic matter into energy needed to live. Now do you understand?"

"I believe so. Though why is it Will wanted you dead?"

"Will believed my death would bring him peace with his predicament."

"Why would he believe that?"

"Hard to say."

Eliza scribbled something on her ledger, though her gaze remained glued to Hannibal. "Your stitches, and the rope-burn...you keep them concealed, because they are reminders of what you endured...and perhaps also, hiding them enables you to still view Will a friend, after such heinous betrayal..."

After appropriately appraising his wrists, Hannibal glanced upward at the female, repressing a smirk. "And what does that say about me?"

"That you hold Will Graham in special regard." Eliza stated, her mouth rigid with disdain. "Whether it is healthy or not."

"Interesting. Your disapproval is two-fold." Hannibal responded. "For Will's action, and my forgiveness of it."

"My disapproval should be of no consequence." Eliza retorted, with a sideways glance at the clock situated on the table beside her.

"There are many underlying reasons as to why an individual seeks counseling. Approval is one of them." Hannibal replied. "I wonder, however, if your disapproval is strictly professional."

One of Eliza's eyebrows perked toward her hairline. "Meaning?"

Hannibal allowed his gaze to leisurely comb over Eliza's petite form. "What do you perceive my sexuality to be, Eliza? Would your disapproval lessen if I were to assure you both Will and myself are heterosexual?"

Eliza's jaw had dropped open at his first question, and remained ajar for several seconds afterward. "Hannibal your..interests, are not for me to judge." she stammered aloud.

"We shall see." Hannibal remarked, unfolding his sleeves.

Tapping her pen against her ledger, Eliza inhaled deeply, and exhaled just as deeply, watching intently as Hannibal unfurled his tie and leashed it around his neck. "What precisely is it you hope to gain from this arrangement of ours?" she inquired reluctantly.

"Besides the undivided attention of a beautiful woman?" Hannibal jeered looping his tie into a knot.

Eliza tried to respond coyly, but Hannibal noted the flash of pink highlighting her cheekbones. "Mm a woman who can be easily taken advantage of."

"Ike Ryan believed you to be such, and yet you tore out a chunk of his throat with your bare teeth as a result." Hannibal countered.

"This is different." Eliza said shortly, as Hannibal smoothed the collar of his dress shirt over his tie.

"Indeed it is." Hannibal agreed, buttoning his sleeves.

Eliza placed her ledge aside, and sat forward, mere inches from Hannibal who gazed at her keenly. "You claim you seek comradeship, yet you clearly already have a unique bond with Will. You're an esteemed gentleman surrounded by admirers, and you are in no need of counseling that I can comprehend.."

"That is where you are wrong Eliza. I am in need. You refuse to acknowledge it, because you fear intimacy both professionally and privately." Hannibal told her.

"Which is perfectly normal."

"True normalcy alludes you Eliza."

His remark seemed to physically stun Eliza, who slumped slightly in her chair. "You've no right to say such a thing...you of all people.."

Rising from his seat with his suit jacket still in his grasp, Hannibal replied. "I am sorry you feel that way. Unfortunately, unless you are willing to prove me wrong, I don't foresee my opinion changing."

"Should I care about your opinion?" Eliza snapped.

Her sudden adolescent demeanor amused Hannibal, and for once he decided not to hide it. "You already do, you've made that evident from the start Eliza." he said, a smirk curling his lips as he shrugged into his suit-jacket. "I did not mean to invoke your wraith, nor to insult you. I was merely stating the obvious. You've secluded yourself from society, a regular response to such an offense as that which Ike Ryan subjected you to. The only shame you should feel is, that you've allowed him to cast a shadow over your life for so long - try as you might to pretend such a shadow never existed. I aim to bring you into the sunlight, so that you may flourish as you rightly deserve. Moss that cannot be destroyed, must be nurtured, else it plague a garden in constant limbo. I wish you a good day Eliza, I await your phone call to book your next session..." Hannibal announced, dismissing himself with a humble nod.

* * *

A/N - bah ending was crap, I apologize. I have very limited access to the internet for the next week and I feared if I didn't finish now, I wouldn't get a chance to publish it at all.


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